


Of toenail clippings and designer underwear

by Andithiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Appalling hygiene, Banter, Draco in lingerie, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry getting an aneurysm, Healer Student Harry, Implied sexy times, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining Harry Potter, Smug Hermione, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Terrible flatmates, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andithiel/pseuds/Andithiel
Summary: Harry is tired of walking in on Ron and Hermione in various states of undress. But since Pansy recently moved in with Ginny there’s another room available. The fact that the room in question is in the same flat where Malfoy lives shouldn’t cause any problems. Right?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 328
Collections: The Ides of Drarry: A Drarry Game/Fest





	Of toenail clippings and designer underwear

**Author's Note:**

> For Ides of Drarry.  
> Prompt: Drarry + first flat. Choose either 1) living together -OR- 2) not living together -AND- either 1) terrible roommates or neighbours -OR- 2) terrible day-to-day habits. Galleon level.
> 
> At first I had no idea where to go with this, but then someone posted a picture on the Drarry discord and my mind just couldn't let the idea of Draco wearing this go.
> 
> Thank you so much to my three (3!) betas [Etalice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etalice/pseuds/Etalice), [Kristinabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinabird/pseuds/Kristinabird) and [Scarshavestories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarshavestories/pseuds/Scarshavestories) for helping me and for squealing with me. I love you all so much and I would be utterly lost without you ❤️❤️❤️

“I have to admit, Harry, I’m surprised you’ve managed to get your bedroom in order in such a short time,” Hermione said, beaming at him. “All in all it’s a really nice flat,” she added, looking around the living room, especially admiring the many plants scattered about on tiny rickety tables and hanging from the ceiling.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled, looking down and shuffling his feet. “I owe some of it to the other git who lives here, though.”

“Yeah,” Ron snorted, “I thought we’d have a third wizarding war when Hermione suggested you take Parkinson’s old room, but —”

Ron was unceremoniously cut off by an angry voice coming nearer.

“Potter, I swear to Merlin that if I find your _disgusting_ toenail clippings on the bathroom floor _one more time_ , I’ll hex your sorry arse into the next — oh.”

Malfoy’s angry demeanor, flushed cheeks and shooting-daggers-eyes changed immediately upon seeing Ron and Hermione there. He looked like a balloon that had suddenly deflated.

“Hey Malfoy, nice to see you!” Ron said, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit.

“Granger, Weasley, I was unaware you had graced us with your presence,” Malfoy said, quickly regaining his usual haughty tones.

Hermione waved faintly. “We wanted to see how Harry was settling in, since it’s his first time looking after himself.”

Malfoy stared at them all, then he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. When he exhaled, Harry thought he heard words like “get used to being surrounded by Gryffindors,” but he wasn’t sure. Then, Malfoy opened his eyes again, fixing them with his deadliest glare.

“Pray tell, Granger, did Potter here” (he still managed to spit out Harry’s name like it was something nasty) “leave his bodily residues all over the place when he was living with you as well?”

Hermione and Ron only had time to shoot perplexed looks at each other before Malfoy continued. “I mean, at first I thought that the two of you wanted some privacy, and that was the reason you set up this _charming_ little agreement, but now I’m beginning to discover that he’s about as well house trained as a baby erumpent.”

When Ron and Hermione kept looking at him with their mouths hanging open, he scoffed and turned around, and this time he _definitely_ muttered “bloody thick Gryffindors.”

Ron gave Harry an apologetic look. “Sorry, Harry, I’ll tell Ginny off for moving in with Parkinson,” which really was only half the reason Harry had ended up being flatmates with Malfoy. 

Ron and Hermione had dropped increasingly unsubtle hints about how they wanted to have some more privacy, now that they wanted to start a family, and when Pansy had moved in with Ginny, leaving an empty room for Harry to live in, it had only seemed like the right thing to do. Also, he was tired of walking in on them in various compromising situations, so the prospect of living with Malfoy had seemed more agreeable than having to see Ron’s naked arse for the umpteenth time when he got home from Healer Training.

Harry shrugged. “It’ll be fine, Ron, don’t worry about it,” he said, not mentioning that he felt like he’d jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

* * *

A week later, Harry was brushing his teeth when Malfoy ran into the bathroom and opened the toilet lid completely unabashed.

“Malfoy! What the —” Harry spluttered, bits of toothpaste foam coating the mirror.

“Aaaaahhh,” Malfoy sighed while Harry tried his best not to look at his dick. “Whoever said there’s nothing better than sex has clearly never needed to pee that badly.”

Harry spit out his toothpaste. “Malfoy. What. The. Fuck. Are you doing here?”

Malfoy gave him an arched eyebrow in answer, shaking his cock a little before he reached over to take a wad of toilet paper. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

“Did you not see me standing here when you came barging in?”

Malfoy yanked up his pants and trousers and pulled the handle to flush the loo. “If you don’t want company, you know there’s a lock on the door,” he said without so much as looking at Harry. “Scoot over, I need to wash my hands.”

Harry was so scandalized that he didn’t even object as Malfoy bumped his hip so he could get to the sink, but as he watched Malfoy flounce out of the room, he thought they definitely needed to set up some boundaries for this to work.

* * *

Harry tasted his chanterelle risotto with a groan of satisfaction. He loved to experiment while cooking, and this time he had added finely chopped celery along with the onions early in the process, and it had really elevated the flavour. That, and the healthy splash of white wine and the ridiculous amount of grated parmesan cheese he had added. 

He opened the kitchen cupboard to fetch himself a plate, only to find it empty. Thinking that he would give the git the benefit of the doubt, he started searching the other cabinets as well, but he only found pots and a grimy cup that was missing its handle. There wasn’t a single plate or even a whiff of a bowl anywhere. Of course. Of bloody course.

“Malfoy!” he shouted, stomping out of the kitchen. “Malfoy! Where the fuck are all the plates?”

Malfoy was lying on his back on his bed, reading _Cleaning spells and their purposes_ , one foot resting on his opposite knee. He looked up at Harry with a bored expression as he stormed in.

“What are you harping on about?” he drawled, idly turning a page and dangling his foot nonchalantly.

“I’m trying to eat some dinner, and I’d like to have it on a plate, you know, like a civilised person.”

“Oh, are we trying to be civilised now?” Malfoy said. “I distinctly remember someone failing to do the _civilised_ task of taking out the bins the other day.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your highness, I must’ve forgotten since I had to rush to uni after I overslept because _someone_ was throwing a raucous party the night before.”

“Yes, well, if you had more friends, you could throw a fun party as well.” Malfoy turned yet another page, even though Harry was convinced he wasn’t even reading.

“I _have_ friends! I just… I don’t like… I just want a fucking plate!”

Malfoy sighed, dropping his hand towards the floor. “There might be one or two under the bed.”

“Under the —? What? Why?!”

“Well, I guess I keep forgetting since the house elves always took care of that at the Manor. And at Hogwarts as well,” Malfoy said with a shrug.

Harry crouched down to lift the bedspread and, sure enough, there was what looked like the entire contents of their kitchen cupboard: mucky and dusty plates, cups, and glasses, all spread out. It looked like a dining table after a particularly heavy feast.

“What the fuck Malfoy, this is like our entire supply of plates that you’ve been hoarding!”

Malfoy shrugged again, waving his hand dismissively. “Yes yes, well, mystery solved, now please leave me to my uni work.”

Harry grabbed one plate along with one set of cutlery, because he’d rather have his arm hexed off than wash up any more of Malfoy’s dishes than strictly necessary.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the sofa, reading up on spell damage and the proper diagnostic procedures for it. It had been a long day, he had just started a new intense course and he was knackered, but he still needed to read for tomorrow’s test.

The door to the bathroom opened and Harry’s jaw dropped, because out stepped Malfoy in a cloud of vapour, skin still damp from the shower, and with a towel wrapped around his waist. Harry choked as Malfoy let out a little sigh of contentment and flicked his hair, little droplets of water hitting Harry on the face. Suddenly, Harry’s trousers felt tight, and he sensed heat rising up on his neck, probably caused by the steam from the shower. He cleared his throat and Malfoy turned to him, looking surprised.

“Oh, Potter, back already?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I guess you didn’t hear me come in, so I assume that’s why you’re… this informal.”

Malfoy paused, and Harry tried desperately to keep his eyes on Malfoy’s face and not on his pink nipples and shiny skin and _Merlin,_ it really was getting hot in the room. 

“Informal? You mean I’m failing to follow the appropriate dress code for being recently out of the shower?”

“Yeah, er, I guess you have a point. I just… I think, since we’re going to live together, we need to establish some… rules, or guidelines, on how to dress properly,” Harry said, shifting in his seat to cross his legs. 

Malfoy followed his actions with his gaze, his eyes lighting up. “Right,” he said slowly, with an ominous sweetness to his voice. “I guess you’re right. I’ll make sure to, ah, dress more properly in the future. Wouldn’t want you to get an aneurysm upon seeing my naked chest,” he continued, and Harry realised he’d been staring. Shit. He hastily looked down to his book again, pretending to read.

“Uh, yeah, thanks Malfoy, I appreciate it,” he mumbled, glancing up when Malfoy sauntered off towards his room, the twin dimples above his arse moving tantalisingly as he went. 

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

* * *

“So, how’s living with Malfoy going?” Ron asked, while making sure his carrots were being chopped correctly and flicking his wand at the stove to light the fire. 

Harry groaned. “It’s worse than I anticipated. He’s always complaining about how I leave stuff all over the flat, but he’s way worse than me.”

“How so?” asked Hermione, who was perched on the kitchen counter and looking through her work notes. 

“I mean, yeah I can get that it’s annoying to find hair in the drain, or that I leave toothpaste on the sink, or that I forget to wipe down the kitchen counter. But he’s constantly throwing parties, going on dates, having… you know… people over. To… do stuff.”

“Do stuff? Like what?” Ron said and was met with an eye roll from Hermione.

“Well, the other week I woke up in the night and I realised it was because… there were… sounds.” He felt his face heat at the memory of that particular night. He’d tried to block it out by pressing his pillow against his ears but Malfoy was really _loud_ , and eventually Harry had resorted to casting a silencing spell. But what was even more embarrassing was that Harry’s body had responded to those noises, and if he allowed himself to think about it, he wanted to hear them again, wanted to be the one to make Malfoy sound like that.

“Well, you have to confront him about it then,” Hermione said, shaking Harry out of his thoughts. “He should at least have the decency to throw up some privacy charms; even a _Muffliato_ would do.”

Harry would rather eat one of Hagrid’s rock cakes than confront Malfoy about what he’d heard and ask him to tone it down. The morning after had been embarrassing enough, with Malfoy smirking knowingly at Harry when he caught him blushing.

“Ew, who in their right mind would ever want to do anything like that with Malfoy?” Ron said with a shudder.

Harry slumped. “Yeah. Yeah I know. Gross,” he mumbled. He distinctly thought that Hermione was looking at him, but when he glanced over at her, she seemed to be deep in concentration with her notes. 

* * *

A week later, Harry was once again sitting on the sofa studying, pretending not to be aware of Malfoy being in the shower. The only reason he was sitting here was because it was more comfortable than sitting on his bed, and anyway, he had just sort of ended up here when he got home and noticed the bathroom was occupied.

He was reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when the door opened and Malfoy stepped out in a cloud of steam. Harry tried not to look up, but when he inevitably did, he nearly lost his bearings, because this time, instead of having it draped over his hips, Malfoy was wearing his towel wrapped around his hair. And instead of having a towel to cover his crotch area, he was wearing tight white briefs with red roses on them and a matching crop top. Harry didn’t know where to look. Certainly he couldn’t look at the way Malfoy’s hip bones were protruding, and the way the fabric hugged his package, leaving absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination. And he couldn’t very well look at the expanse of smooth, pale skin that seemed so inviting, like it was practically calling Harry to come and feel it, taste it.

Harry made an involuntary and highly embarrassing sound, which made Malfoy look at him with a smirk.

“Oh, Potter, didn’t see you there,” he said with an air of innocence. “But I’m happy you’re here so I can ask for your opinion. Do you think I’m dressed more appropriately now?”

Harry couldn’t answer, he’d lost all higher brain power and ability to form words. He didn’t even try to hide how his gaze travelled the entire length of Malfoy’s body anymore, taking in the slant of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the curve of his arse barely covered by the ridiculously sweet and yet salacious underwear. He didn’t know where it came from, but suddenly he had an image of himself tearing them off Malfoy’s body with his teeth. Malfoy leaned on one hip, one strap of the top sliding down his arm as he did so.

“Well, I’ll take that as a sign of your approval. I’m very much relieved, but now I must get ready for my date,” he said, turning towards his room and strutting off. 

Harry wasn’t sure if he was flexing his buttocks deliberately, or if they looked like that all the time when he was walking. Then Malfoy’s words caught up with him. “Date?” he managed to choke out. 

“Yes, Potter, a date. You know, where you get to know each other and flirt a little and if you’re lucky you get laid at the end of it.”

“I know what a fucking date is,” Harry muttered, suddenly feeling very much annoyed for no apparent reason. 

“Oh good! I haven’t seen you out on one, so I assumed they were a new concept to you.”

Harry barely heard the jibe about his social life (or lack thereof), he had more pressing matters on his mind. “Are you — Are you going to be wearing those? Those things? I mean, underneath?”

Malfoy was slow to answer, he was biting his lower lip, looking at Harry assessingly. “I usually save them for special occasions. So no, I don’t think so,” he said finally before leaving Harry alone on the sofa, confused and achingly hard.

Shit.

* * *

“I think I’m attracted to Malfoy.”

Harry had planned what words to use when he told Ron and Hermione; he had gone through the different scenarios and reactions in his head, so he wasn’t that surprised when Hermione choked on the sip of tea she had just taken, her eyes watering with the effort of not coughing.

“Yeah, I know, it came as a shock to me, too,” he said, which made Hermione spray her tea all over the table and collapse in a fit of laughter and coughing. Ron smacked her on the back repeatedly until she straightened up again and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry Harry, I just,” she said, but covered her mouth with her hand as she started giggling again. Harry looked at her in utter bewilderment, then at Ron, who had the appearance of someone who was going to be sick.

“What’s so damn funny, Hermione?” Ron said. “Harry just told us he’s — nope, no, I can’t say the words, it’s too appalling.”

“Hey!” Harry said, batting his arm. “No judgement!”

Ron lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, mate, fair point.”

They both turned to Hermione again, who had managed to compose herself, even if she was still letting out the occasional giggle.

“And what _is_ so damn funny?” Harry asked her.

Hermione looked thoroughly exasperated, arms folded across her chest. Harry was strongly reminded of McGonagall and wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione started tutting and tapping her foot. “I’m sorry boys, but did this _really_ come as a surprise to either of you? Have you both forgotten about sixth year?”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ron told her, making Harry look up at him with a grateful grin. But when he did, Ron didn’t return his gaze: he was staring at Hermione and the two of them seemed to be having a silent conversation. Harry looked between them in confusion, and after a moment, Ron looked like he’d had an epiphany. “Ooooh. You’re right, Hermione, how did I not see this coming?”

“What are the two of you on about?” Harry said, growing more and more irritated. “How did you not see _what_ coming?”

“Oh, come on, Harry, you can’t deny that you and Malfoy have been at each other’s throats ever since we started school. I guess it was inevitable that it morphed into attraction eventually,” Hermione said with a flick of her head, making her look very much like the teenage bossy know-it-all she used to be.

“What are you —? We didn’t —”

Ron gave him a reproachful look. “Mate. Come on. Ask anyone from our year, or hell, ask anyone who went to school with us.”

“You didn’t even think about it until Hermione mentioned it,” Harry muttered, slumping in his seat.

Ron leaned forward and patted him on his hand. “There there, I’m sure it’s just a phase or something. Soon you’ll be reminded of what a git he is, and then you’ll snap out of it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry said, feeling relieved. But when he glanced over at Hermione she didn’t look entirely convinced. 

* * *

“POTTER!!!” 

Harry jumped from the sofa and almost dropped his text book upon hearing Draco’s unusually high pitched voice. By the sound of his tone, it was something serious this time, like someone had died, or worse, threatened to damage his hair. 

It turned out to be the latter. When Harry turned around, Draco was standing in the bathroom doorway, his anger emanating off him in waves and Harry was surprised there wasn’t a thundercloud over his head. 

“Did you seriously use up _all_ of my shampoo?”

Harry swallowed, but shrugged in an attempt at casualness. “I couldn’t find my own, and yours smelled really nice.” He firmly closed his mouth to stop himself from adding that he’d thought it smelled like Draco and that he quite liked that.

“I should fucking hope so, that shampoo cost 10 Galleons a bottle and contains Horklump juice and moonstone powder.”

“Oh, well that explains why my hair feels so soft,” Harry said, bringing a hand up to ruffle his unusually smooth and tameable hair.

“Yes _of course_ it would because you used the _entire bottle,_ you absolute imbecile,” Draco said with barely restrained fury, actually stomping his foot.

“I’m sorry! I accidentally knocked the bottle over when I was pouring it out. I promise I’ll get you a new one.”

“They don’t _make_ new ones! That was from the last batch sold before they went out of business.”

“...oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. I’ll have to find another kind of shampoo to replace that one. One that’ll make my hair shiny and soft and not look like a bird decided to live there.”

Harry felt bad, because Draco’s anger had now been replaced with an air of bitter resignation: his shoulders were slumped and when he turned to go back into the shower, he didn’t have his usual swagger.

“I’m really sorry!” Harry said, knowing it wouldn’t help one bit.

“Yes, fine, whatever,” Draco said, closing the door behind him with a dull thud.

* * *

“Potter, what’s this?” 

It was two weeks later and Draco was once again standing in the doorway to the bathroom, this time holding a bottle labelled “Draco’s shampoo.”

“It’s what it says on the label,” Harry said, scratching his neck. “Shampoo for you.”

“Yes, I can see that, but where does it come from?”

“From me. I made it. Or, well, I got Hermione to help me make it because I famously suck at potions.”

Draco turned the bottle over in his hands, looking at the pearlescent liquid inside. “So that’s why you’ve been absent these past few weeks.”

“You noticed?”

A faint flush appeared on Draco’s cheeks, but his voice was casual when he spoke. “Would I notice if I lived with an erumpent and it suddenly disappeared? Of course I noticed, Potter, don’t be daft.”

Harry bit back a smile, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his stomach at Draco’s words.

Draco uncapped the bottle with an expression like he expected something foul, but when he sniffed it, his features softened into surprise.

“This smells exactly like the one I used to have. Or, well,” he said, taking another whiff, “not quite the same. Did you add horsetail to it?”

Harry felt heat creeping up his neck, as usual when he was scrutinised by Draco. He cleared his throat.

“Er, yeah, I did.”

“Why?” 

Harry shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It was Hermione’s suggestion after I asked her for an ingredient that would make the texture of the hair a little… rougher. Not as sleek and shiny. Easier to shape.”

Draco tilted his head and looked sweetly at Harry. “And why would I want a rougher texture to my hair?”

“Maybe it’d look… I don’t know, a bit messier. Like… someone roughed you up,” Harry mumbled, pretending to read his book to avoid looking at Draco and his piercing gaze. “I just… I like your hair a little messier,” he added quietly, as he shrank into his book, unable to help himself. He dearly hoped that Draco hadn’t heard that last part.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco blink a few times.

“Thank you,” he said eventually. “I’ll let you know what I think of it.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

And four days later, after Draco had cooked him dinner as a thank you for the shampoo, after they had somehow ended up in Harry’s bed and Harry had slowly and carefully slid the rose covered briefs off Draco’s body (because “these are _designer_ underwear, Potter, I will _not_ have you rip them off with your teeth”), after Draco had straddled his hips and taken them both in hand, after they had both come all over Harry’s stomach and after Harry had marvelled at seeing Draco’s breath stuttering as he reached his peak, when they were lying together naked and spent, Harry laughed quietly to himself while drawing patterns on Draco’s back with his fingers, making Draco look up at him. 

“What’s so funny?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s just… would you have believed, six months ago when you were livid about me leaving my “bodily residues” in the bathroom, that we would end up like this?”

Draco hummed, snuggling in close and preening like a cat at Harry’s fingertips on his back. “Can’t say I would, but consider yourself lucky I was willing to try this despite your abominable hygiene.

Harry laughed again, deciding not to bring up all the things Draco did that annoyed the living hell out of him.

“But Potter, if you think for even a second that this will give you a free pass to continue your disgusting habits, you are sorely mistaken.”

“I think this could be good motivation to keep me on the right track,” Harry said, shifting on the bed to let Draco know he was ready for another round. “And if I fail, I give you the right to punish me as you see fit.”

Draco sucked in a breath but tried to hide it by snickering.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are lovely ❤️
> 
> I'm also [on tumblr](https://andithiel.tumblr.com//)! Come say hi!
> 
> Here's a picture if you want to know what [Draco's underwear](https://www.instagram.com/p/B-A27RgAkZD/?igshid=r00aikucewek%22) looks like.
> 
> There’s now a porny sequel to this, called [ Take a trip into my garden ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576383)


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